The Customers Are the Show; Night Life at a Pharmacy

Published: July 24, 1993

Friday, 10 P.M., and Barry from California was desperate for an antibiotic. Two women in midtown needed pain killers. An elegant Argentine couple was on the hunt for a good hairbrush.

"I need something to take out these curls," the gentleman said, furiously smacking at the ends of his hair. "This straight type of brush, she won't do."

A young woman poked her head in the door and asked Marvin Soberman, the pharmacist at Kaufman's pharmacy, what time the shop closed.

"Never," he replied.

The woman guffawed, but Mr. Soberman, who is accustomed both to late-night giggles and cries of pain, did not seem to notice. He was too busy taking calls from doctors and filling the dozens of prescriptions that flood in during the witching hours at Manhattan's only all-night pharmacy. Late-Night Workers, Tourists and Celebrities

It stands to reason that in the city that never sleeps, people need No-Doz. Prisoners of the lobster shift who have trouble staying awake, tourists who have lost their luggage and need shampoo, nervous barbiturate users who forgot to fill their prescriptions during the day and Cher -- they all find comfort at Kaufman's.

Mr. Soberman, who works the Friday overnight shift at his store on Lexington Avenue near 50th Street, recalled: "Liza Minnelli walked in once at 3 A.M. She just bought some over-the-counter stuff, though."

By 10:30 on a recent night, Mr. Soberman had consulted with Barry's doctor in California, who gave him a prescription order (as well as a West Coast weather report), convinced another man that six Compazine were a suitable alternative to the 30 he had requested, and had one of his many assistants help the couple with the troublesome hair problem. (They settled on a circular brush and a pack of corn cushions: $14.55.) 'Someone Has to Stay Open'

"We are in a central location and everyone knows about us." said Mr. Soberman, who became a part owner of the 30-year-old pharmacy a year ago. "Most pharmacies these days close by 7 o'clock. We just feel that someone has to stay open."

He said the bulk of his late-night business comes from emergency rooms, from which people emerge freshly bandaged and bearing prescriptions for pain killers. He also sees lots of tourists seeking allergy relief and sundries they left on the plane, parents whose children have come down with something during the night, and prostitutes on a 3 A.M. search for some Chanel No. 5.

But the early part of Friday night, Kaufman's busiest, is dedicated to the city's good grooming.

Eleven o'clock ushered in a tall woman in an elegant white ensemble, her face pinched in worry as she examined toothbrushes. She gave similar attention to the unwaxed dental floss.

Moments later, two well-dressed men raced in and demanded to see Water Pics. Which is better, they asked, small or large? The clerk really didn't know. They settled for two medium-bristle toothbrushes.

Throughout the night, skin-care products beckoned. Women who pop into drug stores during the daylight hours ostensibly for a bottle of aspirin often become consumed instead with eye creams of dubious merit. Should the middle of the night be any different?

Just after midnight, drugs were still hot. Bactrim, doxycycline, Pyridium; in came the calls for them, and out in little paper bags they went.

At 12:30 A.M., a dentist became incensed when he was initially denied insulin. After some argument, the dentist won. "You have to make sure no one is doing anything improper," said Mr. Soberman, who receives calls nearly every shift from people pretending to be doctors. 'Question-and-Answer Show'

"You push them, you prod them," he said of would-be hustlers. "You don't just say, 'Sure, I'll give it to you.' You can't make life too easy."

By 1:15 A.M., business had slowed a bit, but phones were still ringing. "This is the nighttime question-and-answer show," Mr. Soberman said. "People call in and ask me everything. Will this mix with that, what will this do to me, stuff like that. Some of them are just lonely and need a friendly voice."

Tourists continued to trickle in, and at 2 A.M. a young woman came by to peruse the shaving accessories. After lengthy consideration, she settled on a bottle of hair removal cream. "I know it's crazy," said the woman, who identified herself only as Gloria A. "But I'm going to the beach tomorrow with a new boyfriend, so I need this." Bandages and Ointment

After Gloria came a tall man with slightly unruly hair, clutching his hand. "You got any cheap Band-Aids?" he asked Mr. Soberman, who replied, "Why, you got a cheap cut?"

He revealed that he had clapped too hard at a Broadway play and had sliced one of his fingers on his ring. After patching him up, Mr. Soberman ventured to the back and fixed a turkey sandwich and a coffee, but his late-night snack was interrupted by Kojiro Inaba, who required some ointment.

"I got a piece of metal in my eye while driving my motorcycle," said Mr. Inaba, dabbing at his swollen peeper. "I went to the emergency room and they told me to come here." Off he sped, and back to his snack went the pharmacist.

Mr. Soberman was just getting to his pickle when the deodorant crowd came in. Three men in suits loudly debated the merits of stick over solid. Finally settling on solid, one man paid for his deodorant, discarded an empty stick from the breast pocket of his suit and shoved the new one in.

"Oh yeah," said Mr. Soberman, settling back to his coffee. "Have deodorant, will travel." 'I Just Got Off Work'

Melissa Kray, whose job as a dancer in a bar keeps her out late, heard about Kaufman's from a friend, so she and another friend came in to fill a few prescriptions around 3:30. "We have to get up early and I just got off work," she said. "Going out of town tomorrow; you know how it is."

As the night faded away, business slowed to a trickle. There was a 4 A.M. perfume sale and some kooky banter with "Lex," the block's panhandler, or, as he calls himself, "guide for those misrepresented on where they are going."

No one at Kaufman's can recall a robbery, but there are people who stop by and attempt to distract a clerk in order to steal something. One man came in toward the end of the night, claiming to want a pair of earrings displayed in the window. When questioned about his late-night jewelry needs, he left quickly.

Peter Rivera, the tobacco clerk, watched him go with disgust. "There's a lot of phony characters in the night," he said, then went back to his magazine, and waited for the dawn.

Photo: It stands to reason that in the city that never sleeps, people need No-Doz, Alka-Seltzer or some dental floss. Kaufman's, on Lexington Avenue near 50th Street, is Manhattan's only all-night pharmacy. (Philip Greenberg for The New York Times)